Promises
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Scully forces a promise from a friend...


All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh... 

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org 

Summary: Scully forces a promise from a friend.Rating: G, Story - mild spoilers from "Leonard Betts" and "Never Again"; but not enough that you can't watch the shows or the rest of the fourth season... 

Promises (1/1)by Sheryl Martin 

Jackie St. George was terrified. 

Terrified, scared, panicky... there just weren't enough words in the dictionary or thesaurus to fill in the gap that had just opened up in her soul at this moment. 

Because her friend was coughing. 

They had gone to Brandy's under the disguise of Scully needing to talk to her friend about some recent events. 

"A what?" St. George almost choked on her beer. "You got a tattoo?" Her eyes narrowed. "What? Where?" 

"It was an impulsive thing... I don't know what I was thinking, and now after this..." The auburn-haired woman ignored the last two questions. Sipping her drink, she tossed her head back; letting the red strands wave back and forth. "I can't believe that I did something so stupid..." 

"Well, not that stupid." Jackie chuckled. "Betcha Mulder was curious." 

Dana snorted. "That guy can't get his nose out of his files long enough to notice me, never mind a tattoo." 

"Whoa..." The woman swallowed a large mouthful of her drink. "What the hell is this about?" 

"Mulder. Me. The X-Files. Whatever." 

Then Dana Scully did something very unScullylike. She burst into tears. 

St. George didn't know what to do; given that in all her years of training the situation of dealing with crying women friends hadn't been covered much. Awkwardly she stared into her beer until the worst of the crying jag was over; then slid a handful of paper napkins towards the redhead. 

"You know I don't do this woman thing well." She growled. "Rather just get into a down-and-dirty street brawl." 

Laughing and sniffling as she wiped her eyes, Scully nodded. "Right. I'll remember that next time we interview any hysterical women." 

"Well, Mulder seems to be the best at that." The Canadian paused. "Wanna give me a bit of a clue here?" 

Scully put the wad of soggy napkins on the table. "I just don't know why I put up with it. The way he treats me sometimes; the way the Bureau looks at us... The way my life just seems to be permanently on hold for his dammed cases." 

"It's his life, Dana." Jackie whispered. "If Mulder ever really stopped to take a breath, he'd die. It's like the shark who can't stop swimming - he might pause every now and then to catch his breath; but the hunt is what keeps him going." She stopped for a second, then continued. "And while his hunt is yours as well, it's not the same." 

"How?" The tone was accusatory. "How are we the same?" 

"You both want answers. About what they did to you; why they killed Melissa... what really happened to Samantha." St. George forced a smile on her face. "You can't walk away from the X Files any more than I can walk away from what I am. Besides, the boredom would drive us both crazy." 

"And it's killing me." Scully snorted. "I have no life - I just roll around after Mulder and pick up after him. Run his little errands. Do the paperwork that he's too lazy to do and cover our behinds." 

"Sounds like a perfect match to me." Chuckling, Jackie finished her beer. "Hey, if you want to get a life; then have something to live for. Read that on a bathroom wall once." Getting to her feet and throwing a few bills on the table, she reached for her jacket. "I say that you and he will be chasing aliens by the weekend - and no worse for this little spat. He's probably reading back issues of Cosmo right now and wondering if you've got PMS." 

"Do you and Marty ever fight?" Scully struggled into her trench coat. 

"Oh, yah." St. George smirked. "Of course, it's kinda foreplay for us..." 

The petite woman held up her hand. "Please. I don't think I can deal with that right now." 

"What... I figure that with your fighting skills Mulder might be interested..." 

******** 

Unlocking her apartment door, St. George flipped on the lights; grimacing. "I haven't had the maid in..." 

Scully stepped inside, surveying the disaster zone. "You probably did, and lost her somewhere because you didn't have a safety line attacked." 

"Ha-ha." The Canadian walked into the small kitchen. "How about a cuppa tea before you go home - I got this new herbal blend that tastes great." 

Then it had started. 

Scully put her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle it as it burned its way out of her stomach; clawing up her throat with bloody gouges. Bending over, she felt the spasms start. 

Bolting out of the kitchen, St. George stood above the woman; frozen with fear for one of the first times in her life. 

"Dana... Dana..." Jackie didn't know what to do, aside from crouching beside her friend; now curled up on the floor in a ball and still gasping for air. "I'll... I'll get Mulder... I'll call 911..." She rambled, searching for control. 

Scrabbling to her feet, she reached for the phone; a small part of her mind grateful that she had speed dial because at this point remembering her own name would be impossible 

But before she could grab the receiver, Scully's hand shot out; encasing her arm in an iron grip. "No..." She wheezed as she panted for air. "No..." The worst of the fit passed, and the petite redhead lay exhausted on the floor. Standing stock still, the Canadian watched as the fit passed; not having the presence of mind to shake her friend off and finish reaching for the phone. 

"Dana..." Helping her to her feet, St. George manoeuvred the small woman to the couch. "That's not normal - I'm no doctor, but that sounds like pneumonia, or something..." 

"Promise me you won't tell anyone." Scully still held St. George's arm tightly. "No one... not Marty, Mulder, Skinner... not Devon or Rosie or my mother ... no one..." 

"What is it, Dana?" The Canadian frowned. "It's got to be serious if you're talking like that... let me get..." 

"No." This time her voice was forceful and steel. "No one. Promise me you'll tell no one. Promise me..." 

Jackie pulled back, unable to free herself. "Dana..." 

"Promise me..." Dana drew in a deep breath. "For our friendship..." 

"I'm friends with Mulder, too..." She said quietly. "If you're counting, I knew him even before you did. And I can't do that to him." 

"If you tell him, you'll hurt us both." The breath whistled out between clenched teeth. "You owe me... you owe me this one thing for all we've gone through together." 

"I owe Mulder as well." 

"But I'm asking you now..." The wheezing had stopped; and the colour returning to the woman's face. "Jackie, I've never asked for anything before." 

Biting her lip, the woman nodded. "I swear I won't tell anyone about this." She held up her hand. "Until you tell them or give me permission. Or it's really necessary. On my sword and my honour." 

Satisfied, the redhead lay back on the pillows and rested. "I'll be fine in a few minutes." Her eyes closed. 

Under her breath, St. George muttered. "Damn you, Dana Scully... I know I'll regret this..." 

******** 

A few hours later she rolled over in bed and started to cry silently; trying not to wake the man beside her. 

A pair of strong arms encircled her from behind. "What's wrong?" The sleepy voice asked; filled with worry. 

"Nothing." St. George sniffed. 

"You don't cry over nothing." He retorted with a soft laugh. "What's wrong?" 

"I made a promise." She sighed. "And I think I'll regret it." 

"What?" 

"I... can't tell you." 

"Work secrets?" 

"Yah... kinda..." 

******** 

Across the city a lonely woman stared at the ceiling in her bedroom and began to cry again. 

Because she felt like coughing. 

******** 

ÒThe bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each otherÕs life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.ÓRichard Bach -- ÒIllusionsÓ 


End file.
